


(I Wish I Met you When I Was) Further Along

by Hcpelesshcney



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chance Meetings, Day At The Beach, Denial of Feelings, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, Let T. J. say fuck, M/M, Swearing, The Swing Set (Andi Mack), Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hcpelesshcney/pseuds/Hcpelesshcney
Summary: The stars looked the same in Washington, But TJ looked different. Cyrus could still see the boy he used to be, though, and somehow that hurt him more than the football that had hit him in the chest.





	(I Wish I Met you When I Was) Further Along

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have a lot of feelings. I started writing this fic before the finale, because I was pretty much just in denial that things were actually ending. And then I watched the finale, and was even more emotional, so I apologize if this doesn't make all that much sense. 
> 
> Jonah and Marty are only briefly mentioned in this fic, and actually the wedding doesn't even happen, that's just mentioned too.
> 
> But! Besides that, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please keep in mind that the characters are aged up (23-25) in this!
> 
> And thank you guys, for making this fandom such a good place to be these past couple of years. You really are the best.

“Do you think,” Cyrus found himself asking, but then he stopped. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to say, which was rare. Usually he couldn’t get himself to stop talking, an annoying habit formed before he was even aware of what talking really was. But this, now, it all felt so weird that whatever question was floating around his brain wasn’t willing to form on his tongue. 

TJ takes a swig from the unlabeled glass bottle they’d been passing back and forth, and even though they’re past old enough to drink, it still felt kind of forbidden. But then, that may have just been the actual situation he currently found himself in, sitting on a salt water rusted swing set with Cyrus Goodman less than a foot away, rather than the drinking. “Hm?” His hand curls around the neck of the bottle, fingertips touching the outer edge of his palm. Cyrus can still picture that same hand curled around the rubber of a basketball. 

If someone were to stumble upon them at the moment, Cyrus was not sure what he would say to save face. He wasn’t sure about much beyond the pull of the tide receding from the beach beyond them, and the moon shimmering bright over them, and the wind that blew in off the ocean, sending a chill through his whole body. Maybe he could blame it on the drink coursing through his veins when he asked, “Do you think we could have worked? If things had been different?” 

TJ made a noise that sounded like it was caught somewhere between laughter and choking. He looked over at Cyrus, trying to gauge if he heard him correctly. When Cyrus doesn’t turn to meet his gaze, he realized that he did.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat. “I—forget it.” 

TJ did not turn away from Cyrus when he asked, “Do you remember the last time we did this?” 

“What? Got drunk at the beach after one of us hit the other with a football? I can’t say I do.” 

TJ huffed, a quick rush of air through his nose. “No, I meant—I _mean_ the last time we were together, just us. We used to hide out here all the time. Well, not here exactly, but at the park. The swings.”

“It always was the swings.” 

“Yeah. So, do you?” 

Cyrus closed his eyes, letting the ocean breeze wash over him. If nothing else, it helped calm the way his face was burning. “Yeah. I do.” _As if I could forget._

“It was the end of senior year.” TJ continued, “And even though I felt like I’d done the impossible by graduating I—” 

“It still wasn’t enough for your dad. I remember.” It hurts to pull those memories back to the surface, especially when Cyrus can’t actually see how they apply to the situation, but as soon as they’re there, they just don’t go away. “You showed up at my mom’s house at two in the morning, throwing pebbles at my window like we were in a movie.” 

“Looking back, I probably could have just texted you.” 

“No kidding.” 

“Okay, look, that’s not the point.” TJ laughed, and the sound sends Cyrus’s stomach plummeting to the ground below. “The point was—even when you didn’t have to, you met me. We sat on the swings your stepdad built for your younger sister in the backyard until the sun came up. And I remember looking at you, and it felt like I was seeing you for the first time all over again.” 

Cyrus looked over at him then, eyebrows pulled together. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means— fuck, I— this isn’t coming out the right way. I wanted to kiss you so bad, Cyrus.” 

“What?” It feels like the ground has given way beneath him. “You don’t mean that.” 

“But I—I _do_ mean that. I wanted to, fuck, did I want to. But I was—” 

“Scared.” 

TJ sighed, heavy like he’d been holding onto the weight of it for ages. “So scared. I was terrified of what everyone else would think.” 

“Like your dad.” Cyrus says carefully, his gaze fixed somewhere across the world, wrapping right back around to the little town they grew up in, so far away from where he was now, and who he was at twenty-three.

“Yeah.” TJ answered His throat hurt. And his head hurt. And he couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the memories, but it ached all the same. “I wish I didn’t care so much back then.” 

“Do you still care now?” 

“Not about… _that_. Or what my deadbeat dad thinks about me. But… it all happened so late. I stopped caring about him too late.”

“When did you?” Cyrus turned in his seat to watch TJ’s face. “Stop caring about what he thought, I mean?” 

“Freshman year of college, I guess. After I realized I didn’t want to be a basketball star anymore. After he cut me off.” TJ looked back to the beach house. “Are you cold? We can head back.” 

“Oh, no I’m okay.” It’s a lie, but lately Cyrus had gotten really good at lying. He wonders if TJ can still tell. He looks back to the airbnb just for a second. The rest of their friends are in the sand just beyond the porch, sitting around a bonfire, and he can just barely make out the smell of roasted marshmallows if he turns towards the wind. What he wouldn’t give to be sat by that fire now.

“Here,” TJ says, shrugging off the hoodie he’d been wearing all day, “Take this.” He stands up, draping it over Cyrus’s shoulders in a way that’s so tender it makes Cyrus’s heart ache. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus says, curling his hands into the fabric. It smells like the ocean, and the same aftershave TJ had been using since high school. Wearing it feels like he’s wishing for something bigger. What a dangerous thing to do. 

He watches the ocean for a while, trying to ignore the tug in his chest that’s begging begging begging him to look over at TJ in the moonlight. Instead, he watches the waves push and pull, and thinks about how easily he could disappear along with them. There’s a fine line between swimming and drowning, and right now, Cyrus felt like he was on it. 

When he finally breaks and allows himself to glance over at the man sitting beside him, it feels like his heart has taken root in his throat. The moonlight turns TJ’s hair to flax, and Cyrus wants to reach out and run his hands through the soft strands like he would have back when they were friends. He tells the moon and the stars and the ocean behind him, “I loved you.” 

TJ takes another swig from the bottle. 

* * *

> _EARLIER_

“C’mon, Cy, it’s our first night here!” Andi exclaims, bounding up the steps to the second floor of the airbnb they were renting, “You’re not just going to hide out in your room the whole time, are you?”

Cyrus pulls his gaze away from the window he was curled up next to, forcing a smile onto his face. “Well, I don’t know. I’m kind of tired from the drive.” 

“ _Cyrus,_ I did most of the driving. You slept the whole time.” 

“I know, I know. But you know how car sleep is! Even if you sleep for a million hours, it doesn’t feel like anything.” He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later on.” 

Andi frowns, sitting down besides him carefully. She places a hand on his knee, and the look she gives him is so pitiful it hurts. “Cy, I—I know that this sucks. Michael’s timing was awful, but he was always kind of a huge jerk. And like, I know it probably feels weird being here on your own or—well, you’re not on your own, okay? You have me. And Buffy, Marty, Jonah. Even Amber is getting in pretty soon, y’know? Don’t you want to see her again?” 

“I know,” Cyrus sighs, turning to rest his head on Andi’s shoulder. His body feels so heavy, like all his sadness has pooled at his feet weighing him down to the spot he was in now. “We’re here for Buffy and Jonah. I promise I won’t be a drag the whole time.” 

“Oh come on,” Andi knocks her shoulder against his. “You’re never a drag. It’ll be good to have some company, though. So, come with me? At least to the living room to let everyone in.” 

Cyrus nods. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Sweet!” Andi says, jumping up from her seat. “And who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone new.” She laughs, dancing out of Cyrus’ reach when he moves to swat her shoulder. 

Shaking his head, he follows her out and back downstairs. Even if his boyfriend of three years had dumped him two days before they were supposed to go to Buffy and Jonah’s wedding, and even if he really thought this time was going to be different in a way that would end with his own wedding, Cyrus was determined to not disappoint the rest of his friends. The very least he could do was spend his time with them. 

* * *

The next morning, the lot of them are traipsing down to the beach that stretches out for miles on either side of their airbnb, bogged down with towels and ice chests to last them a lifetime. As soon as they hit the sand, Marty, Buffy, and Jonah took off towards the water, kicking up sun-warmed sand in their wake. Cyrus helped Andi and Amber set up their seating, weighing down the blanket she’d brought with their shoes to keep it from flying away. 

“Are you going in?” Amber asked Andi, tying her hair up into a loose bun to keep it from getting wet in the water. 

Andi nods, pulling an aerosol can of sunscreen from her bag. “Help me first?” 

Amber takes the can from her, and they both move down-wind to avoid spraying anyone else with the sunscreen. Cyrus had already thought ahead and was generously covered in SPF 50 before they had even left the airbnb. This meant that he could just tug off his tank top and head out to the water without wasting any more time. Or at least, it was supposed to.

Before he’d even reached the water, Cyrus heard someone calling out to him. He looked over to where Andi and Amber were still standing by the blankets, Andi frantically waving at him, since he was too far away to hear what she was saying clearly. And then something hit him. 

He stumbled back, his chest aching in a way that had nothing to do with the heartbreak he’d experienced a few days before and everything to do with the football that was lying by his feet. He rubs at the sore spot on his chest, just starting to bloom bright red, and reaches down to pick the ball up. Someone runs up to him then, tripping over their words in a hurry.

“Hey, man, I am _so_ sorry, I told Jeremy to— _Cyrus_?” The person standing in front of him is tall, so much taller than Cyrus himself, and broad shouldered in a way he could only ever dream to be. He didn’t _look_ familiar to Cyrus, but that _voice_. 

Oh. 

Oh oh oh. 

It felt like his stomach was going to pull itself out of his throat and through itself into the ocean. It felt like he was seventeen and speeding down the road again because his best friend was egging him on and— 

“TJ?” Cyrus asks, as if there’s even the smallest chance of him being wrong. He looks so different from the last time Cyrus saw him, all long hair and freckle spatter suntan skin, but as soon as he said his name, that same crooked smile bloomed over his face. “Oh my god.” 

“Holy shit, man! How long has it been?” His hand is on Cyrus’s shoulder, probably leaving a burn from how warm he felt, and Cyrus still can’t find his voice. Then he’s being pulled into a hug, and Cyrus is pretty sure that the only thing keeping himself together is TJ’s arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Cyrus carefully extracts himself from their hug, forcing himself to breathe lungful after lungful of warm sea salt air. His head is swimming, but he breathes and he breathes and he laughs just a little hysterically, because he’s trying so so so hard to not let himself cry. TJ has no right showing up here, Washington of all places, and tearing Cyrus’s world down all over like he did the day after graduation. “What are you _doing_ _here_?” 

“What are _you_ —”

“Cyrus!” It’s Buffy who reaches them first, not because she was closest, but because even in the sand, she was the fastest. “Are you okay? What happened?” She wheeled to face TJ, and Cyrus is sure she doesn’t recognize him either, because she pops off like he’s just another jerk. “What the _hell_ was that? How could you possibly lose track of a football that bad? Were you even _trying_ to—Holy _shit, TJ_?” 

TJ ducked his head, having the decency to at least look a little afflicted by Buffy’s rant. “Yeah, it’s me. Hi, Buffy.” 

Buffy socks him in the shoulder, but she’s laughing and smiling so wide Cyrus wonders if her cheeks ache. They all used to be such good friends, back in high school. But that was years and years ago. “You absolute _jerk_. Where have you been? What are you doing here?” 

“I moved. Here. To Washington. Right after graduation. Lived with some of my mom’s family while I was going through college, but I guess I did kind of drop off the face of the planet out of nowhere, huh?” 

“ _That’s_ an understatement.” Buffy answers, slinging her arm around Cyrus and pulling him to her side. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Cyrus nods, which seems to be enough for her, because she’s telling TJ goodbye and heading back to the rest of their group—all of whom are standing in a cluster half a beach away, watching the exchange. Cyrus runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest against his neck when he’s done. “So…” 

"So." 

“I—I should get going. Back. To them.” 

“So soon? I feel like there’s still so much we have to catch up on.” And that damn _pout_ that TJ does goes straight to Cyrus’s heart. Curse him. 

“Come with me.” Cyrus finds himself saying, despite all of the warning bells in his head going haywire. “I’m sure everyone else would like to see you again.

* * *

They walk back to the group, a foot of space between them that feels like it’s both too much and not enough at the same time. TJ is welcomed much more warmly than he thought he was going to be, but it’s nice. He did kind of miss these people. But growing up made you do things you weren’t always proud of, and running away from Shadyside like his heels were on fire was just one of those things. 

But it doesn’t feel like any time has passed at all, really. They still joke and argue and shove each other around like they used to. Only, now Buffy would wipe stray chip crumbs away from Jonah’s mouth, and Andi was sitting on Amber’s lap reading a book to her, and Cyrus… 

Cyrus still looked like the scrawny teenager he’d left behind seven years ago, and it was breaking his heart. They were sitting together in the sand just outside the reach of the ocean, the rest of their group a few yards away, and it was taking everything he had to not reach over and grab his hand. It felt like the day they sat on the bench outside of Andi’s party all over again, when he was still too damn scared to love like that. The right way. Shaking his head to clear it, he says “So…” 

“So,” Cyrus repeats, eyes trained on the waves crashing against the shore. 

“Cy.” 

“TJ.” Cyrus scoops up a handful of sand, depositing it onto TJ’s chest, so bare and close that he feels like he’s going to throw up with how hard he has to focus to avoid looking.

“C’mon,” TJ knocks his hand against Cyrus’s knee, and immediately regrets the decision, because it sends his brain spiraling. “Aren’t you going to talk to me?” 

“That’s what we’re doing right now, isn’t it? Talking?” More sand. The fine grains burn his fingertips, but it’s a welcome pain. 

“No. You’re avoiding me.” 

“I am not.” But he was. Everything about TJ hurt Cyrus. His long hair hurt. His crystal blue eyes hurt. The way they crinkled around the edges when he laughed at something one of their friends said hurt. Wondering if they could even still be considered friends hurt. They used to be friends, back when they were kids. 

Fuck, they used to be _kids_. 

“You’re in Washington.” 

“So are you.”

TJ says, “Cy,” and it sounds like begging. 

Cyrus sighs, looking over at TJ beside him. It’s the worst decision he’s ever made. 

“What _are_ you guys doing here? I mean, the whole gang is present.” TJ looks at them standing in the ocean and sprawled out over beach blankets, and the silent _minus me_ hangs in the air. 

“It’s Buffy and Jonah’s wedding weekend. They wanted to have it on the beach, so, we’re here.” 

“Oh man, that’s wild. Aren’t they only—” 

“Twenty-three. Yeah. But I mean, it doesn’t seem that young when you’ve known someone your whole life, y’know?” _That could have been us_ , Cyrus allowed himself just a second to think. _If you had wanted me back._

“I guess so. Do you live near here then?” 

“No,” Cyrus says, picking up a handful of sand and letting it run through his fingers. There’s a metaphor about heartbreak and first love in there somewhere, but he doesn’t care to look. “I live in California, actually. San Luis Obispo.” 

“I… don’t know where that is.” TJ says, which is so honest and like him that it makes Cyrus laugh. 

“Not a lot of people do.” 

“But you made it out, though. That’s—that’s good.” TJ says. 

Cyrus thinks, _with no help from you_ . He thinks, _you left me behind_. He says, “So did you.” 

TJ scoffs, shaking his head. “College doesn’t actually count.” 

“Is that why you never came home?” _Is that why you never came back to me?_

TJ closes himself off abruptly. “You know how my dad was—is.” He cuts himself off, a harsh shake of his head. “It—you know.” 

“Yeah,” Cyrus sighed, his voice small. He knew. “I’m sorry. But—You knew you were always welcome with us. Always.” 

TJ’s throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. “I didn’t want to impose.” 

They fall silent, and the quiet is almost worse than the heat beating down from the sun. 

“I guess I could have known you would be here.” Cyrus says, finally. “It’s not like we don’t still have social media.” 

“Why would you look?” TJ asks, “I was just some ass who left you in the small town dust.” 

“You were my _friend_ , TJ,” Cyrus replies, his voice crackling in a way it hadn’t since puberty, “I—” _I loved you_. 

TJ is watching Buffy tackle Jonah into the water, is watching them laugh and laugh, when he says, “Not anymore, though.” 

It’s a few moments later when he asks, “Are you happy?” 

Cyrus frowns, turning his face away quickly before TJ can see the way his eyes are starting to mist over. “Are you?” 

TJ shrugs, still watching their friends. “I’m myself, now.” 

“And what does that mean?” 

“It means…” TJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. He gathers it up and ties it off with the hairband around his wrist. “I’m gay.” 

And _oh_ , that hurts, because Cyrus had wanted to hear him say that for so long, but it felt like it didn’t matter anymore. And _oh_ , that hurts, because Cyrus grew up in Shadyside, Utah, and TJ Kippen grew up a few blocks away in a house that the cops knew by memory, and TJ and Cyrus used to sneak off to the park and hang out on the swings for hours, and they would talk about wishes and dreams and tv shows and music and anything that wasn’t the way TJ’s hands were shaking like a leaf in autumn. 

And _oh_ , that hurts, because once TJ got suspended from school for beating a point guard’s face bloody after he pulled Cyrus Goodman out of his locker, and Cyrus and TJ and gone right to the nurse’s office instead of going to the principal like they were supposed to. And _oh_ , that hurt, because Cyrus had been the one to pour rubbing alcohol over TJ’s torn up knuckles, and he didn’t ask how TJ knew what to do about blood and bruises.

And _oh_ , that hurt, because Cyrus had spent five years of his life pining over his best friend who he didn’t think could ever love him back like that, and then another seven years trying to put all that behind him, and finding out that he could have loved him if they had met at a different time made him feel like he needed to walk right into the ocean and never come back. 

“Oh,” Cyrus says, eloquent as ever. “Thank you for telling me. I—I didn’t realize.” 

“It’s fine,” TJ replies. He laughs, and it sounds real, even if it’s not. “I was like, _ridiculously_ in denial during high school, anyway.” 

_Yeah, no kidding_. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For—I—God.” Cyrus drops his head into his hands. “Your dad always said you would catch it from me.” 

“Cyrus,” TJ laughs again, because now he can tell they were just joking, “I’ve always been gay. And you’ve always been dramatic.” 

_I wanted to marry you_ , Cyrus thinks, _I loved you_. All of the late night cuddling on the couch watching movies, all the times TJ pulled him close when he didn’t have to, all the laughter and carefully placed hands and—fuck. 

* * *

They head back to the airbnb, tracking sand across the hardwood floors into the kitchen. Amber pours drinks for everyone, fruity things that hold more alcohol than should be legally allowed, and Cyrus knocks two back before anyone else has even put a dent in their first. 

“Whoa, there, Cy,” Amber says, pulling his third glass away to replace it with water, “Slow down there.” 

Cyrus pulls a face, downing the water and reaching out for his glass again. “I’m fine.” 

“Cyrus, you get drunk off of one hard lemonade, and you’re definitely going to be feeling both of those drinks in the next ten minutes. What’s wrong?” 

“It’s,” Cyrus sighs, closing his eyes. “TJ. It’s TJ.” 

Amber looks across the room, her eyebrows furrowed. “Huh? He’s just talking to Marty. They’re probably bonding over basketball or something.” 

“No that’s—that’s not it.” 

“Then what is?” 

“I—” _I still love him,_ he thinks, _I don’t think I ever stopped._ “Never mind. Can you just top me off?” 

She does. 

* * *

By midnight, Cyrus feels like if he doesn’t leave the airbnb _right now_ he’s going to explode. Or throw up. Or both. Frankly, he was kind of surprised he wasn’t passed out in his bedroom already, because Amber wasn’t kidding when she said her drinks would hit hard. But he was still up and awake and painfully aware of TJ’s presence, and he really _really_ needed to get away. 

He stumbles out onto the sand dusted porch, and forces himself to walk right back down to the beach. The sand was much cooler now, and the sound of the ocean beside him felt like a comfort he couldn’t normally afford. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts, cursing himself for not changing into something warmer. Living on the coast of California should have taught him better than that already. 

Cyrus wanders down the coast, only stopping when he comes to an old play structure set off a ways from the shore. He moves to sit down on a salt rusted swing, looking up at the expanse of stars above him. They look the same as yesterday, when he was still in San Luis Obispo, but the world feels so different now. 

He doesn’t actually know what he wants to find there, staring up at the sky and losing all his body heat to the sea-chilled air, but he knows he wants to be alone. Which is too much to ask, apparently, because just moments later, TJ is standing next to him, looking so good in the moonlight that Cyrus nearly cries. He’s holding a bottle of something pink that Cyrus is sure Amber will be missing in a little while.

He says, “Hey.” 

TJ says, “You left.” 

“I did.” 

“Why?”

Cyrus almost says that he left because being around TJ again after seven years of radio silence was beginning to drive him crazy, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Instead, he says, “I just needed a break.” Which was as close to the truth as he could dare to get. 

TJ nods. “Is that seat taken?” 

“It is now.” 

He sits. “Can I tell you something?” Cyrus closes his eyes and is instantly pulled back to seventh grade. The creak of swings. The scuffle of converse against wood chips. 

_Can I tell you something?_ TJ Kippen asked at fourteen, sixteen, eighteen. Nothing but the rhythm of their swinging and their phones tossed on top of their jackets, buzzing away because no one ever thought to look for them at the park. _I’m going to leave this town behind some day._

At twenty-three, Cyrus says, “Of course.” 

“I never deserved you.” 

Cyrus chokes on a sob. His eyes are all misty, and the sand from the beach air must be coating his lungs because TJ’s name comes out sounding like he’s begging. “TJ—”

TJ shakes his head. “I’m serious, Cyrus. I—I didn’t deserve a single thing you did for me. You were always so good to me, even when I was a complete dick. And—and I’m sorry. For everything.” 

_Why do you make moving on so damn hard, Kippen?_ Cyrus wants to ask. _Why can’t I just let you go._ But—he doesn’t ask that. Instead, he asks, “Do you think we could have worked? If things had been different?” And the ground gives way beneath him.

* * *

“I knew that.” TJ says, when he pulls the bottle away from his mouth. “I knew.” 

Cyrus looks over at him, wide-eyes and face flushed. “Was I that obvious?” 

“I—” TJ laughs, shaking his head. “No. Just—just to me. We spent so much time together, Cy, and I know I can be real dense sometimes, but even I know when someone likes me.” 

Cyrus looks away, feeling the heat of shame pool in his stomach. _Oh god_. 

“But, I— Cy, look at me.” 

Cyrus doesn’t look. 

“ _Please_.” the word sounds like it hurts, and Cyrus is so shocked that he whips his head around to look the other man in the eyes. He isn’t expecting TJ to be crying. Not at all. “I—I _knew_ , Cyrus, and I wanted—” TJ scrubs at his face with his free hand, the hair on the back of his arm glinting with the tears he’d wiped away. “ _Fuck_ , I was so dumb, I—I didn’t think I was good enough for you. I—I—I used to lay awake at night and ache over how much I wished I could love you the way you loved me.” 

“You could have,” Cyrus says, voice shaky. 

“No, I—That’s not what I mean. I loved you, Cyrus, so damn much. But I couldn’t love you the way you deserved.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It was different. For me. You know that.” TJ digs his bare feet into the sand, ignoring the sting the salt from his skin had left around his eyes. “You _knew_ , and you were out and happy and—and people supported you, Cyrus, even though it was still so damn hard for you sometimes but—I didn’t have people like that. No one—no one told me that being _bi_ was a thing. No one told me that that was _allowed_. I grew up—I grew up thinking that you either had to be gay or you had to be straight, and only one of those was the right answer. There isn't actually a right answer.” 

Cyrus wishes the wind would swallow up his voice when he says, “I’m sorry.” 

“We can’t be seniors again.” TJ says, voice thick with the ache of it. “I can’t kiss you after graduation.”

“I know.” Cyrus says, pushing himself off the swing. He moves so that he’s standing in front of TJ, carefully pulling the mostly empty bottle from his hand and setting it on the ground. “But we’re here now, right?” 

TJ laughs the way he does when absolutely nothing is funny. “We’re _drunk_ , Cy.” 

Cyrus shrugs. “We’re adults. And we’re away from Shadyside, and we’re _here_ , on the beach, a million light years away from the terrified kids we once were. That has to count for something, right?” 

TJ swallows, blinking quick to clear the tears from his eyes again. “What are you saying?” 

In a small moment of confidence, Cyrus reaches over and takes TJ’s face in his hands. It’s thoughtless when TJ shifts to let Cyrus settle between his legs. “It means, TJ Kippen, that I want to learn you again. I—I want to try with you. If you want to.” 

TJ closes his eyes, resting his cheek against the warm palm of Cyrus’s hand. “Cy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.” 

And he does. 


End file.
